


a puppet's strings

by anemo



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, spoilers for Magician's Pure Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemo/pseuds/anemo
Summary: Puppets and dolls are nothing but tools to carry out their master's every whim, forced to act and move as commanded. At first glance, it looks as if the puppeteer controls the puppet, but... what if it happened to be the other way around?
Kudos: 6





	a puppet's strings

**Author's Note:**

> after watching Magician's Pure Love at 1 in the morning, i got inspiration to write this fic, and a part of this was inspired by [this fanart piece](https://twitter.com/seb77n/status/1286096879311151104)!

How exhilarating it must be, to be able to make a mere puppet fall victim to your very whims. The twitch of an index finger lifts an entire arm, whilst the drop of a ring finger brings the leg down. With that much control, it is only fair that the puppeteer experiences some degree of joy in the event of a magic show. Being able to convince an entire world that a mere doll is human… That’s certainly not an achievement to be considered sub-par, no?

Looks can be deceiving—It can’t be easy to make every single one of the doll’s movements mimic that of a real person’s, with fluidity and grace in each movement, such as the courteous bow before and after each performance. The twirl of a hand. The bending and twisting of joints as it goes through the best acts of the show.

Of course, the best acts are often the worst ones for the unfortunate doll, often taking the highest toll on its supposedly immaculate condition. On some days, one or two of the fingers wouldn’t be able to move or bend properly, and on others, it’d be a minor stiffness in one of the legs. None of it ever goes unfixed, though, seeing as the dollmaker himself tends to its every single imperfection, covering them all with the illusion of flawlessness once more. Then, the cycle repeats itself.

It’s a cruel reality for the dollmaker, to see such a beautiful creation as this, reduced to something of a mere toy, only for the eyes of the masses to watch. It was always for _them_. The audience always came first, and never himself. Instilled in him was a sense of pride, obviously toward what he did for a living. Seeing his creations on stage like that, however… Would it be so wrong for him to feel the slightest of jealousy? Anger? Resentment?

It was only fair, as he’d led himself into the most intricate of traps, tangled around the strings of his own dolls. Throwing away the burning passion in his heart in hopes that he could gain some worldly recognition for his feats, only to be overshadowed by the attention and praise of his own creation. Mirage, the “vanishing beauty”, as they called her, captured the attention of the working class and nobility alike. With her grace and human-like movements, everyone, including the show’s own staff, were convinced that she was indeed a human being like the rest of them. Not once did anyone doubt it, and not once did the dollmaker step in to say anything. It’s not like he would’ve been able to do anything, anyways.

To the public eye, his existence meant nothing. He had no purpose, no name to make himself known by. A mere doll was able to achieve everything he couldn’t, and over time, the voice in his heart pleaded for him to destroy the doll, and to eradicate the world of its existence… He could never bring himself to do it. In the end, Mirage is still a creation of his own, and the destruction of something he thought akin to his own family was unthinkable, despite his heart screaming for him to bring down the hammer, to put everything to an end.

Silence is golden, they all say, but nothing about this silence felt golden to Kugutsudou whatsoever. Unsaid words crumbled to dust, while the sight in his right eye faded as his days of silence passed. All the while, he tended to another doll—Lucienne—for what would be his last few days with Petén and, tragically, his right eye. Looking back, it was like the doll was mocking him; the bright rose color of its left eye closely matched his, and staring into it served as a reminder to the loss of his own humanity. Once passionate for the creation and presentation of his dolls, the dollmaker was now a doll of his own collection, his body and soul tainted with pride, greed, and self-destruction.

The dollmaker feared the same would happen to his dear friend, the magician who swore never to perform on stage again. Of course, as broken as he was, he still catered to his friend’s wishes, with a last shred of hope wrapped around his beating heart. He knew from the very beginning how things would turn out, tragic and bittersweet. But who is he to deny Mirage another wonderful performance, as the broken puppet he is?

As he looks out the window of the room above the brightly-lit stage, he wonders if everything he’s done was all for naught.

* * *

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… It’s showtime! Are you ready?”

The ever-so-glorious days of his time, at the peak of his career, was when Mirage became famous. The mysterious beauty who could seemingly vanish and reappear without a trace, her movements filled with fluidity and gracefulness, almost as if she was a person. Although, that was what the magician was to convince his audience, performance after performance, and he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

It was a great feat, to perform such acts without being in the act itself. If a life-size doll, maneuvered by every twitch and twirl of its makers hands, could captivate the world, then what was the point of going through the extra effort to present the exact same performance? In the end, all that matters, right? To see the sheer happiness and awe on their faces? Or was it for the purpose of gaining fame and credit for the dollmaker? 

What a tragedy, for hiding the doll’s true identity led Kugutsudou to do the exact opposite; for the sake of fame, the mass media, and finally, the recognition—After all, without those three things, his career would be in shambles. So what other choice did Mirage have but to become the dollmaker’s partner in crime? Was it the virtue of their friendship? Or rather… Was it his pity towards the former?

Such foolishness was to be expected of Petén Uso, the talented coward who always ran in the opposite direction of his dreams; who always chose his earthly desires over all else. Despite having convinced himself of his role as the puppeteer, Petén became the puppet in the end, turning a blind eye to the reality which was right in front of him. His desire for revenge and escaping the truths which served to hold him back. To his disappointment, a mere metaphor told to him by his dollmaker friend soon turned into a bitter reality when his left eye slowly lost its sight, for reasons still unknown to this very day.

In the end, though… It was worth it, with risking his pristine reputation for the sake of claiming what was rightfully his. Lucienne, the beautiful doll he’d sought after for so many years, was finally in his grasp, and in no way would he ever let the wondrous chance pass him by. At what cost, though? His apprentice, Kiel, who he’d just began to see as someone of his own family, someone who he cared deeply for… He tossed their relationship aside, and so easily, at that. Knowing the boy might end up throwing his passion for music due to his own desires, he allowed the boy to see through his actions, anyways.

But then again… perhaps it was the right thing to do. Petén had turned Kiel into a human puppet of his own, following his every command. He saw the dependency in Kiel’s eyes whenever they worked together. He wanted to see the boy as a free magician to do as he wished, not waiting on hand and foot for him to pull at the worn strings that looked as if they could snap at any given moment. So, with this knowledge, he pulled the invisible strings wrapped around his fingers, and indeed, the boy followed his every word, only to have his trust shattered in the end. Even as he looked at the boy’s face, carrying a look of shock and resentment, he couldn’t bring himself to let his regrets get to his fragile heart.

After all, that was what he wished for, right? To set Kiel free from the strings which bound him? As does that of everyone else who happens to cross paths with the retired magician, who continues to carry the burdens of his own actions. Petén Uso, a man fated with nothing but shattered dreams and sorrows, brought upon him by his own hand, and no one else's. Along the crumbling path he walked upon, Petén never turned back once, knowing that his regrets will come back one day and latch onto him like the strings that continue to pull him forward, not giving him a split second to think of anything else.

All the while, the doll in his hands continues to smile blissfully, looking as if it doesn’t have a care in the world, and with his lone eye, Petén can’t help but notice why its heterochromic eyes look so familiar to him.

He asks this aloud, but the doll can only stare back at him without providing him the assurance he so desperately desires.

* * *

Lucienne, a doll created by the crafty hands of a master dollmaker, with eyes the color of emeralds. Prized by her creator, she was given the best treatment—every doll of her caliber had to be tended to carefully, with each single brush of her hair, the gentle wipe of a moistened cloth against the delicate features of her face, and the dusting of clothes tailored to a size befitting of her. She saw the love and care in that man’s eyes, and wished to return it to him somehow… But a puppet isn’t allowed to feel or think. No, their purpose is to carry out the wishes of their creator and those who wield the strings which hold her in place.

But she could no longer follow her creator’s will, having been taken away by deceitful hands for the purpose of self-gain. For years, her fate resided in a dark, empty box, only to be opened every month or so to be cleaned, brushed, dusted, and so forth. The color in her eyes gradually faded from their vibrant green color to a dull gray, and the imaginary heart which beat in her chest for the one who put so much care into her was no more. In the first place, a doll couldn’t possibly have feelings, but… If living beings could be influenced from one another, then perhaps inanimate objects could, too.

The light of day finally reached her porcelain skin, but the circumstances she found herself in was anything but wonderful. An auction, where the opulent flaunted their wealth to obtain things that were never intended for them. Through such a horrific event, did she remain in the care of another twisted soul, whose heart only sought out for power and wealth; more so for the latter. She watched from her place in a temporary, low-quality case as he made the decision to toss his inherited funds around like candy, just to purchase a priceless doll such as her. Oh, how wonderful it would be, to see that face contort into an expression of despair, to watch that carefree man fall from his position of undeserved power… 

Such are the supposedly nonexistent feelings of a doll crafted from porcelain and silk cloth, who wished despair upon those who let their greed and pride get the best of them. She saw it all. No human being could ever wish to achieve such perfection conveyed through that of a finely-crafted doll such as herself, but yet, they still strove for such an outcome that would never be within their reach. Two such fools are Kugutsudou and Petén Uso, true puppets of their own kind. The pure self-destruction and indignance in Kugutsudou’s eyes, along with the despair and desperation in that of Petén’s. They, who went about their own ways by pulling strings that were not intended for them to wield, continued to pursue the path of self-destruction, until they were left with no choice but to dangle from their own strings.

The proof is in Lucienne's eyes, each one shining brightly with the color of their irises. By pursuing their own twisted definition of satisfaction, they sacrificed something valuable of their own. An eye for an eye, as they called it. With that, they are connected to her, and they will never be separated for as long as they live. Such is the price of dealing with the devil—Or in this case, the dolls. Emotions and mortal desires intertwined into the same drastic fate, they are Lucienne: Not one being, but not separate either, and in their own ways, they let the puppet’s strings guide them along, making them the puppets, and the puppet the puppeteer.

Bound to the doll for an eternity, it is not until death, will they finally part ways.

* * *

The color in a doll’s eyes shifts from their dull, gray color to a vibrant, rosy color as it rests in its brand new case. Watching as its new master—Koma, if it remembers his name correctly—enter the room with a gentle hop in his energetic stride, it sees the faint deviance in his eyes, and it’s all too clear that he’s just like the one before him.

But having remembered his odd words as he held another doll a few days prior… Maybe, it thinks, this one will be more interesting than the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> recently, i got a fascination for puppets, and i guess that contributed to this fic, as well... i'd like to say that this isn't a vent fic, but i did write this to let off some steam, so i guess it is


End file.
